The Poor Man Mansion
by GrimmUlquigrrrl
Summary: Grimmjow never knew he was lucky to be born into a good family until the day he met a hooker from the slums, and ever since he's been trying to get as many women off the streets as he can. But what happens when he actually finds... a boy? GrimmUlqui, AU
1. Chapter 1

Grimmjow fingered the piece of paper in his pocket, trying hard to ignore the grunts of the man in front of him. He sounded like he was having some hell of a good time. Grimmjow had been standing in that line for thirty long minutes, each one sinking him deeper into total disgust for this place, and it was all he could do to keep his hand on that piece of paper that he would use to bargain for someone's life and keep reminding himself why he was here.

The man in front of him verily fucked the glory hole in the concrete wall, and Grimmjow was glad he couldn't see the woman's face. He didn't really want to have to actually witness her getting face-fucked, even if he technically already was. In all of the years he'd been taking women of the night off the streets and out of the slums, he'd never had to immerse himself like this in their work to get to them. But this Queen Cocksucker was in _very_ high demand already in her short career, and there was never a time of day or night where there was no one there- unless the doors were locked, which was probably the only way the poor woman could get any sleep, and even then there were men lined up outside. Grimmjow was determined to get her someplace where she could rest whenever she wanted to.

There was a very loud grunt, then a few seconds of panting before the man stumbled back and tried to pull up his pants. There was a slim thread of something clear connecting to something, presumably a pair of lips, beyond the hole that snapped as he clumsily shuffled off. Grimmjow grimaced. He stepped up quickly, repressing his desire to throw the note in (probably skewering the woman's eye with a corner in the process) and bolt, instead letting the note fall harmlessly from his hand onto the floor inside the glory hole and hurrying as unobtrusively as he could outside, away from the stench of sweat and semen.

He gulped the fresh, crisp twilight air deeply as he let the caged shudder of disgust out from behind its bars. Well, he'd gotten her the note. Now all he could do was show up at the coffee shop and hope that she'd read the note, that she'd decided to come and try for a better life, and that she wouldn't immediately turn tail and run when she saw him. He knew that he didn't set the most trustworthy framework, with his wild blue hair and rather obvious physical strength. He'd learned that women of the night were wary of strange, strong-looking men, especially the brand-new ones. Older ones didn't care as much, but it was more difficult to fully convert their lifestyles and often they would return to the slums. Grimmjow could only hope that the Queen Cocksucker wouldn't end up that way, but from here everything was all up to her.

Now he had to find a secluded place to loose his lunch.


	2. Chapter 2

Grimmjow turned the page in his book, settled firmly into his chair. He'd been here for a few hours now, but he'd said on the card that he'd be here all day and he didn't mind being here that long either. He secretly adored this coffee shop, with its yellow wood floors, tables and chairs and airy windows that lit it with sunshine. It was a place that felt familiar even if you had never been there before, and it was right on the edge of the slums. It was a perfect place to meet someone who was in a strange new place and making a gamble on their future.

Grimmjow always sat at the same table along the front wall of the shop, which was entirely windowed, and he faced the other window-wall across the long expanse of floor. The door was also a few tables away from him, and everyone who came in was fully visible to him. The ceilings were high, high above his head, which gave him a feeling of openness, and the whole shop felt like a well-lit, bright cabin with a homey feel. The women were less likely to run here, and Grimmjow was on good terms with the owner. Whenever anybody asked awkward questions as to why Grimmjow was always with a different woman every time he was here, Urahara explained it so Grimmjow could focus on the task at hand.

Grimmjow looked up as the bell over the door rang, looking to see who it was. He started, blue eyes going wide as he dropped the book- he wasn't sure whether it was in surprise or fear. A ghost. He was seeing a ghost. Black hair, a little shorter now, pale skin, black fingernails, brilliant green eyes- but dressed in boy's clothes, baggy pants and a hoody instead of sleek women's styles. A boy. It was a boy. It had to be, because it didn't have breasts. Grimmjow's heart rushed his blood along, thumping wildly in his chest, his fingertips and ears tingling, but he forced his breathing to calm. He was being ridiculous. This young man was clearly just that- a young man. Not a budding woman, not someone Grimmjow had ever known. He shook his blue head.

The boy looked dodgy and nervous, his big eyes darting around the shop like he expected something to leap out of the shadows and devour him. The poor thing jumped as Urahara called to to him the traditional welcome-to-my-shop greeting, wide eyes locking on the blonde man. "Can I help you?" Urahara asked from behind the counter, and the boy looked around again before slowly creeping closer, and even though Grimmjow could see they were conversing he couldn't hear what was said. He picked his book up off the floor, his heart slowing down to a rot as he uncreased the abused pages. He heard Urahara's fan snap open, a sure sign that the man was trying to hide his too-wide smile and immediately knew something was up. He looked up from trying to re-find his page.

Urahara was, in fact, smiling a smile meant to cover up supreme surprise behind his fan, and the boy seemed to know it. He didn't seem like it was unexpected, though. Urahara gestured over to Grimmjow's table and the boy looked over, giving Grimmjow view of his small features and strange green tear tattoos, and again the resemblance shook him. But more shocking than that was that Urahara directed the boy his way. Grimmjow felt his eyebrows disappear into his hairline as the boy walked timidly closed and sat down across from him. The boy didn't meet his eyes, his face plastered with uncomfortable defiance. 'Yes, I know, I'm a boy, don't bring it up,' it said. Grimmjow didn't.

He uncrossed his legs and sat up straight, laying his book aside. "Well, hello," he said, quickly retrieving his casual demeanor. He didn't want to offend this boy with his surprise. The goal was to get him off the streets. Grimmjow smiled. "I hope you don't mind if I tell you this is a first for me."

"I didn't expect that it wouldn't be," the boy muttered, still not looking at him. His posture was hunched and brittle, and he didn't look like someone who currently found himself in a place to trust anyone. But he was here.

"I appreciate your coming today," Grimmjow said, leaning on his forearms as he clasped his hands together. "I understand that this is not exactly how you expected to spend today, and I know that you're wary. I'm sure that especially for you it's very difficult for you to reveal yourself to me, so I'd like to make you a promise. You're safe." Grimmjow looked intently at the boy, who slowly el this eyes flicker up. He had to see the force of Grimmjow's oath. "I promise that no matter what your decision is, your identity will never be revealed to anyone, through me or Urahara, the shopkeeper. No one will know your secret, and if you decline my offer I'll even forget it myself." the boy looked up with a guarded expression.

"And what, exactly, would I be declining?" eh asked edgily, but Grimmjow could see tat he had at least unclenched his fists in his lap.

"Well, why don't we get something to eat first?" Grimmjow said. "It's not a very comfortable conversation that doesn't have food on the table." The boy paused, considering warily for a moment, then gave a stiff nod. Grimmjow took that to mean food would be appreciated and flagged down Ichigo, one of the waiters here. As the grouchy-looking carrot-top got up and started over, Grimmjow asked, "Do you know what you want? The bear claws here are really good, and so is the apple coffee cake."

"...What's the sweetest thing they have?" the boy asked, and Grimmjow couldn't resist the urge to chuckle. The boy burned in embarrassment, glaring at the table. Grimmjow got the feeling that sugar was this boy's weakness.

"They have hot milk with sugar and honey in it," he offered up, "and strawberries coated in sugar. They have chocolate-covered caramels too, if you like, and apple rhubarb pie." Ichigo stopped by their table.

"Hello, and welcome," he said through a yawn, "ah- sorry, I'm tired. What can I get you?"

"Not a problem," Grimmjow said, "it's Monday. I'm gonna have my regular, what about you?"

"I'll have the hot milk with sugar and honey and a slice of apple rhubarb pie," Ulquiorra said, and Ichigo jotted it down.

"Okay, so one coffee with two cremes, a cranberry-orange scone, a sweet warm milk, and an apple rhubarb slice," Ichigo listed off for confirmation. "Will that be it?" Grimmjow glanced at the boy before saying that it was, and Ichigo finished writing and looked up. "Hey, man, it's good to see you again," he said. "It's been a while."

Grimmjow raised his eyebrow at the built college student. The two of them did get along, but in more of a I'll-shoot-you-dead kind of way. "Yeah, I had some stuff I had to take care of," he said, "but I'm back in business now." Ichigo's look changed a little.

"Yeah, I- I heard from Urahara," he said awkwardly, shifting on his feet. Grimmjow felt a twinge in his chest. "I-well- I'm glad you're gonna be okay." Grimmjow blinked.

"Aw, Ichi-berry," he teased to cover up how grateful he was for those simple words, "were you worried about me? I'm so touched." Ichigo blushed an outraged red and rankled, and immediately the awkward kindness was out the window.

"You only wish!" he shouted, hands balling into fists by his side. "Like anybody could worry about a dipshit like you!" Grimmjow let himself lean in cockily, opening his mouth to deliver a smart retort that would undoubtably lead to the two of them exchanging blows when Urahara called from behind the counter.

"Kurosaki-kun! How mean," he called over, waving his fan lazily. "You really shouldn't talk to a long-time customer like that, especially with a guest sitting right there. You'll scare the poor boy."

"I-! But-! He-!" Ichigo spluttered, pointing a shaking finger at Grimmjow, who just smiled triumphantly.

"As if I would be scared," the boy said, "by some hothead muscle builder." All three of them fell silent, Ichigo in shocked anger and Urahara and Grimmjow in just plain shock. They knew how rare it was to find someone with such a tone of defiance in Grimmjow's line of work, someone who didn't cower away from everything they saw, someone who could look at everything they had facing them and still not give up. Grimmjow knew right then that this boy would do amazing things.

"Y-you-" Ichigo sputtered.

"Me?" the boy asked back sharply, lifting his little chin to glare Ichigo in the eyes. Ichigo exploded.

"You little shit!" he cried. "Given the way you walked in I'd thought you'd be like all the other quiet people this guy meets here, but you're mmphmphmmmph!" Grimmjow had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing loudly, snorting instead as Urahara snuck up and grabbed Ichigo and covered the teen's mouth with one hand while simultaneously pinning his arms with the other. He picked Ichigo up like that easily, reminding Grimmjow why nobody ever messed with him, and smiled at his customers.

"I'm sorry," he said a little too cheerily for somebody who was holding a yelling, struggling kid in his arms, "I'll have your order right out."

"You got owned, Ichi-berry!" Grimmjow shouted after the two as the shop owner toted Ichigo away kicking and screaming. He laughed loudly enough for Ichigo to hear- and ergo be pissed off by- it, although he quieted once they were out of sight. "Whoo, oh man," he chuckled breathlessly, "that was eventful. Sorry."

"It isn't a problem," the boy said, and Grimmjow could see that the whole ordeal had brought his courage to light. He looked much more relaxed. "So, where were we?"

"Ah, yeah," Grimmjow said, sitting back in his chair. "You asked me what you'd be declining- or accepting. Well, it's really kind of simple. I pull you out of the slums and help you get back on your feet, including helping you figure out what you want to do for a career, get your GED, all that."

"I graduated high school," the boy said, and again Grimmjow found himself stunned.

"Really? That- that's wonderful," he said. "I've never worked with anyone who's done that before. Congratulations."

"It really wasn't so hard," the boy said. "I think the people in the slums have just figured out that stealing, cheating and selling yourself are faster, less energy-intensive ways to get what you need. Anyway, if I were to take you up on your offer, just what would I be doing, and where would I live?"

"Well, you would stay with me," Grimmjow said, "at least for the first few month or two, probably longer. I've got a big house with a lot of rooms, and no one to fill them but me. You'd have your own space while you adjusted to life outside the slums. As for what you'd be doing, that's up to you. You could go to college, find a job, or you could just hang out around the house for a while as you work it all out. The doors are all open for you. It would pay for any expenses as far as schooling goes, so you don't need to worry about that." Grimmjow didn't miss the way those green eyes widened at the prospect of free college, but pretended to.

"And, after the first few months, I would...?" the boy asked.

"I would find you a place to live, once you're ready," Grimmjow said, "but I wouldn't kick you out until then. I would help pay rent and bills, but slowly pull back so you learn to rely on yourself- not that it seems to me like you have any difficulties in that respect," he smiled. "Ichigo said it too, that you're much more self-reliant than most people in your situation."

"I'm male," the boy shrugged, as if that explained it all. Grimmjow noticed that he didn't say 'I'm a man' like most boys his age would.

"Believe me, I noticed," Grimmjow said. "After you leave my house, by the way, you can always come bak. If things start going wrong, you lose your job, you can't pay rent, you find yourself slipping, you get in with the wrong crowd, anything at all, know that I will always help you."

"How many have come back?" the boy sake.d grimmjow let sobriety overtake him.

"None," he said sadly. "Most of the women who fall from grace either forget I'm there, or don't want to ask for help, or think it's shameful, or whatever else they think. A lot of girls go back to the slums. I do make rounds, though, every month, to check up on the girls I've helped. Make sure they're doing alright, you know. I really want them to do well; when they go back to the slums, it's means that they feel worthless. And so do I." The boy just looked at him for a moment, with an unreadable expression that made Grimmjow feel looked into. Not just looked at, but looked _into._ Then the boy broke the gaze, and Grimmjow felt that he'd been freed from a spell. Grimmjow was astonished- no one had ever looked at him like that.

Grimmjow started when Renji, another one of the waiters, put his coffee in front of him. He hand't even noticed the man walk up. "Here ya go," Renji said. "You guys get any free item of your choice to split because of that ruckus earlier, Urahara says. Whaddaya want?" Grimmjow looked at the boy.

"Your choice," he said, and the boy blinked.

"Alright then," he said, "a bowl of strawberries with sugar." Grimmjow was impressed by how quickly he could make decisions.

"Okay, gotcha," Renji said. "That'll be right up."

"He's not as lively as the other one," the boy noted as Renji walked off.

"Yeah," Grimmjow said, "but I'd hate to see two Ichigo-rate waiters flouncing around in here. Having one Ichigo and one Urahara is bad enough." He sipped at his coffee. "So, what are you thinking about my offer?"

Ulquiorra paused, then swallowed the bit of pie he'd just taken. "...Do I have to decide today?" he asked, and Grimmjow thought he heard nervousness in the tone.

"No, of course not," he said. "It's logical for you to want to take your time. This is a big decision. How about we meet here for breakfast Thursday morning? Does that give you enough time?" Ulquiorra thought again, then nodded. Grimmjow smiled. "Great. It's set."

And even though Ulquiorra hadn't made up his mind yet, Grimmjow knew it was.

It would be nice to have someone else in his house again.


End file.
